


Illogical But True

by remanth



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Fluff, M/M, spirk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-04-14 20:36:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14144061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/remanth/pseuds/remanth
Summary: Spock realizes he's in love with Jim Kirk.





	Illogical But True

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the lovely goosieboosie as part of an art trade. It's my first Star Trek fic and I'm not sure if I quite have their voices down. McCoy was surprisingly easy, though.

A tense silence reigned in the transporter room. Even though he technically had command of the bridge, Spock waited here. He stood against the wall, not touching it but out of the way, his hands held folded behind his back. His eyes were trained on the console before the ensign, waiting for the moment the captain and chief medical officer would be beaming back.  


He had no doubts as to the outcome of this event. None at all, though little niggling worries danced in the back of his mind. Spock ignored those as best he could, merely raising an eyebrow slightly at the direction his thoughts were trying to take. Jim Kirk would be fine. He’d survived worse perils. He’d survived alone on a desert planet with a Gorn as an adversary. The man had walked away mostly unharmed from that. He would come back from this. And Dr. McCoy was with him. There was no way the irascible doctor would let harm come to the captain.  


“Sir,” the ensign said nervously, glancing over a hunched shoulder. “Sir, there’s no word yet. If you’d prefer to wait on the bridge, sir, I’ll alert you as soon as I hear from them.”

“I’m perfectly satisfied to wait here, ensign,” Spock replied. “The bridge will survive my absence. I have full faith in the crew.”

“Yes sir,” the ensign said, voice tinged with resignation. She turned back to the console in front of her, trying to ignore the now-silent presence behind her. And still, the tension crackled.

Kirk was acting as champion for the Federation, with all the potential violence that promised. The custom on this planet was to settle disputes and negotiations with a trial by combat. The inhabitants had had this custom for centuries and were in no way inclined to give it up. Even when petitioning to join the Federation. So, as the captain of the ship sent to represent the Federation, Kirk had to fight on behalf of his side. Should he win, the planet would vote unanimously to join. Should he lose, the planet would vote not to. It was as simple as that.

The practice seemed illogically dangerous to Spock. After all, the result depended on the strength of the combatants and not on the morality or possible benefits of either argument. The system was likely rife with corruption. It would be simple to bribe or coerce a champion into not being champion. Replace the first with a weaker champion and the other side was almost guaranteed to win. And that was just one option. Spock had passed his time waiting with thinking of all the ways he personally could introduce corruption into the trial. He hadn’t even stressed himself that much.

The console beeped and the ensign jumped at the sudden noise. Her fingers moved deftly enough, however, as she went through steps that training and drilling had made automatic. Spock watched her, his breath caught in his throat. Even though the waiting had seemed interminable, this still was a shorter time than he expected to hear back from the surface. Had Kirk lost? The ambassador had promised that this trial was only to first blood, unlike some other trials in the planet’s past. Kirk must have used his intelligence and cleverness to win through another difficulty, hadn’t he? Surely there was no way he was dead, right?

Spock’s lungs screamed for air and he sucked in a deep breath as quietly as he could. No point in alerting the ensign to his… distress. Though the air didn’t help the pounding of his heart. It thundered in his ears, a counterpoint to the quiet tapping from the console. Tilting his head slightly to the side, Spock contemplated his reaction. He was quite used to suppressing emotional reactions, though he was convinced his human heritage made them happen more frequently than for other Vulcans. But before, he could pinpoint the cause of the reaction. Now, he wasn’t quite sure. 

Was it worry over whether the planet would join? He had no personal stake in the matter. To be honest, whether the planet joined or not would not impact him or Vulcan in any way. Perhaps it was nerves over possibly losing the captain of the Enterprise? He would step up into the position. He had a good rapport with the crew and, while there would be grief over the loss, he was certain the crew would pull together and perform as admirably as they always did. So why?

But he wasn’t to get any more time to consider. He shoved the questions to the back of his mind to consider later as a familiar voice boomed through the room.

“McCoy to Enterprise,” the doctor said. He sounded a little out of breath. “Two to beam up.”

“Yes sir,” the ensign replied. “Transporting now.”

Spock moved closer to the transport pad, standing stiffly straight. Two forms shimmered into view as Dr. McCoy and Captain Kirk were reconstituted. They were standing separately, so at least Kirk was still alive. Some of the weight on Spock’s chest eased at that thought. The captain was still alive. Jim was still here. When the transport was finished, Dr. McCoy wore his usual irritated expression. But Captain Kirk was no longer in pristine shape. Spock’s breath caught again as he took in Kirk’s appearance.

His shirt was torn in a long slice from one shoulder nearly all the way to his waist. It was covered in reddish gray dirt and a splash of pale red, nearly pink, decorated his right arm near the wrist. It was too light to be Kirk’s own blood to Spock thought it must have been his opponent’s blood. But there was a thin red line in Kirk’s own blood in the center of the slice in his shirt. A few drops glistened, showing that the wound wasn’t very old.

“Captain?” Spock said, satisfied when his voice showed none of the emotional reaction he was still trying to ignore. “How was the trial?”

“A hell of a thing, Spock, a hell of a thing,” Kirk replied, grinning. He clapped a hand on McCoy’s shoulder when the doctor just snorted. “Hey, it was Bones. And we won, even though their champion and I marked each other at nearly the same time. The judges say my blow landed first. He won’t even have a scar on his shoulder since I barely nicked him.”

“No, no scar for him,” McCoy snapped, glaring at Kirk. “But that will likely scar unless we get to sick bay. Don’t even know why you wanted to fight in that barbaric trial anyways. Could have just appointed a champion, like the ambassador did.”

“Where’s the fun in that, Bones?” Kirk asked, laughing. He groaned then, pressing one hand to the slice on his chest. 

“What are your orders, Captain?” Spock asked, instead of the other questions running through his mind. _Are you all right? Were you hurt terribly? What were you thinking to fight like that?_ “Shall we break orbit?”

“I think we shall, Mister Spock,” Kirk replied, clapping his hand on Spock’s shoulder. He grinned again, eyes flashing with mirth and excitement. It made Spock catch his breath yet again. “You have the bridge while I get treated and write up the report for Starfleet.”

“Yes, Captain,” Spock replied and watched as Kirk left with McCoy without a backward glance. 

He pressed a hand to his shoulder, eyes narrowing a little in confusion. Then he glanced at the ensign, who’d been working to be forgotten by her console, and dropped his hand. Work to do. Time to go to the bridge and get the ship underway. There was no time for whatever emotional reaction he was having. Space was calling.

~*~*~*~

It came to be something of a common occurrence after that for Kirk to come back from an away mission disheveled and bleeding. After the fourth time, it was a source of amusement for the crew. A few even started a betting pool on how the captain’s shirt might get ripped on away missions. A slice in the shirt over his pectorals became the most popular, and hotly contested, way. There was even one fistfight that Spock broke up himself between two ensigns who claimed that each had chosen that particular rip first.

Since the betting was quieter after that, Spock was content to let it be. Humans needed distraction in the nothingness of space. Games of chance kept spirits up and fostered camaraderie and bonding among the crew. It harmed nothing except for the captain’s wardrobe. He never joined in, finding it all ridiculous. What need for games of chance for a Vulcan when mental puzzles were so much more fascinating and fulfilling?

Yet, his emotional reactions to the captain’s dishevelment continued. And if there was blood, his heart would pound hard enough that he wondered no one else could hear it. Only his iron self-control kept any of his inner turmoil from appearing on his face or in his voice. It made no sense, these emotional reactions. The captain was not dead, often wasn’t even injured severely. But seeing blood mar his skin was enough to unsettle Spock for the rest of the day. Thankfully, his control had never been tested in the thick of things. He had only seen the aftermath of whatever had happened.

Until now. Now, he stood shoulder to shoulder with Kirk and McCoy, phasers in hand as a group of lizard-like creatures hissed at them. They’d stumbled upon a nest of the creatures, startling themselves and the lizards. Spock, who’d been point, froze for a moment before trying to back away slowly. Perhaps the lizards would see them retreat and not pursue. But it was not to be. Spock had only taken a few steps when the largest lizard lunged to its feet, threw its arrowhead-shaped head to the sky, and howled loud enough to cause a few loose stones to plunge from the walls of the canyon around them. It roused the whole nest to chase after the three of them.

Kirk had taken the lead in their desperate flight. He led them through side tunnels and switchbacks, into small caves that led through to another part of the canyon, and over small mounded hills of rubble. Yet they never left their pursuers behind. Finally, Kirk had chosen to make a last stand in a box canyon. McCoy had been trying to call the Enterprise the whole flight but they were too deep in the canyon. He couldn’t raise their ship. No rescue was coming.

“Try to scare them off,” Kirk ordered as they were surrounded. “We don’t want to kill them if we don’t have to.”

“I don’t think we’ll have to worry about that,” McCoy muttered. He shifted uneasily on his feet, his shoulder bumping into Spock’s. “I doubt they’ll feel the same way. And there’s more of them.”

“We’ll be fine, Bones, where’s your sense of adventure?” Kirk replied, laughing. “Imagine the story we’ll bring back after this.”

“Oh yes, chased by lizard things and _not_ eaten by them,” McCoy grumbled but there was something more in his voice now. Hope. Always, always, Kirk gave them hope. “Well, at least it’s warm out. Could be worse. Could be snowing.”

“There you go, Bones,” Kirk said, bumping his shoulder and then Spock’s. “No snow.”

“Captain, in the likely event we don’t make it out of this,” Spock said, some urge driving him to speak. “It has been an honor serving with you. With both of you.”

“Oh now I can die,” McCoy exclaimed. “I’ve heard it all. It’s been an honor for the Vulcan to serve with us.”

“It has been,” Kirk said. His voice was a little quieter but no less intense. “But we’re making it out of this. We’ll get out of this.”

“Yeah, yeah, honor and all that,” McCoy said but he was smiling as he said it. “All right, let’s scare some lizards.”

The largest lizard was the first to dart at them. Kirk fired his phaser just in front of its feet. It skidded to a stop but others were still on their way. Spock fired in front of a pair of lizards running shoulder to shoulder. They split apart, one on either side of the burn on the ground. He fired again and again but they never stopped. Finally, when they were a few paces away, Spock quickly changed the setting on his phaser to its lowest level and shot first the right-hand and then the left lizard in one leg. Each stopped, hissing and growling. They nuzzled at their legs and a few drops of green blood spattered the floor of the canyon. Then, as one, the two lizards turned and bolted away.

McCoy, meanwhile, was firing at the rocks other lizards were crouching on. Quick bursts like this wouldn’t heat the rocks as much as sustained fire would but it was enough. Four lizards had hopped off the heated rocks, limping on burned feet. Two of them followed the pair Spock had wounded but the other two advanced on McCoy. Like Spock, he fired in front of them in an effort to deter them. And again, like Spock, found that they ignored it. Taking a deep breath, McCoy sighted on the one slightly in the lead. He fired, hitting the lizard in the side. More green blood dripped to the ground but the lizard was still alive. It hissed at him then ran. Its partner followed it, keeping close and nudging it back in line when it wavered in its flight.

Which left the leader still facing off with Kirk. Seeing the rest of its nestmates scatter wrung another ear-shattering howl from its throat. Kirk covered his ears with his hands, screaming out of pain and defiance. He jerked as something popped in his ear and warm blood started dripping down his neck. The lizard, sensing a momentary weakness, darted forward. It slashed at Kirk, a long claw jutting from its toes. Spock turned to see that claw tear into Kirk’s chest. He jerked the captain back fast enough that the claw scored his chest rather than tearing deep into it. Kirk lost his balance and fell, breaking their defensive positions.

The lizard pressed forward, hissing and growling. It raised its foot to claw at Kirk again. Seeing the red blood decorating the claw, Spock’s vision fizzed and blurred at the edges. A thundering ringing filled his ears as anger burned its way through his chest. He dropped his phaser and stepped towards the lizard, ignoring McCoy’s voice and the hand grabbing at his shoulder. The lizard paused, staring up at him. Its flat black eyes seemed surprised for a moment to see one of its prey move toward it.

But that momentary flash was all Spock allowed it. He lunged at the lizard, wrapping his arms around its throat. He jerked his head to the side as the lizard snapped at him. One tooth grazed his temple and more green blood dripped. His blood was a darker green than the lizards’. The pain galvanized him further. Twisting his body, screaming with the effort, Spock wrestled the lizard to the ground. He wrapped his legs around its body and squeezed his arms tighter. The lizard’s tail slammed into his legs but he ignored it. The pain wasn’t important. Stopping this thing from hurting Jim was. Still screaming, Spock squeezed his arms as tight around the thing’s throat as he could. 

After an eternity, but was only a few seconds, the lizard’s thrashing slowed. Its tail dropped to the ground and its mouth worked to draw in air that wasn’t coming. Another few seconds and the lizard’s thrashing stopped completely. Still, Spock held on, his throat raw with his screams of rage. A full minute passed before he regained control of himself. The lizard had died in about half the time.

“Remind me never to piss you off,” McCoy said as he held out a hand to help Spock to his feet.

“You haven’t managed it yet, doctor, though you have tried,” Spock replied. He wiped a hand over his temple, smearing the blood. Then he turned to Kirk, who was still on the ground. “Captain, are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Kirk replied. Then he coughed and groaned. “Just a flesh wound. But thank you. Without your help, it would have been worse.”

“You’re entirely welcome, Captain,” Spock replied. He was interrupted before he could say more, though he didn’t know what the words rising to his lips were.

“Captain, are you there?” Lieutenant Uhura’s voice crackled through Kirk’s communicator. “Can you hear me?”

“Kirk here,” Kirk replied, grimacing as his wound pulled. “Good to hear your voice, Uhura.”

“We lost you there for a few minutes, Captain,” Uhura explained. “Some interference from solar storms and the depth of the canyons you’re exploring. Is everything all right?”

“Yeah, yeah, we’re good,” Kirk said while McCoy continued, “We need to be beamed out. Kirk’s been wounded.”

“Right away, Doctor,” Uhura said.

When they were back aboard the Enterprise, McCoy hurried Kirk to sick bay and Spock went to his quarters. Ostensibly, he was writing up a report of the away mission’s events. In truth, he spent much of the time thinking about Kirk’s injury and his reaction to it. He could still feel the lizard’s scaly skin under his hands, still hear its rasping breaths as it struggled to breathe. And he couldn’t understand the rage that had filled him. Why? Why had he lost control like he had? So far, he’d only lost his control when it came to Kirk. What did that mean?

Spock finished up his report feeling vaguely dissatisfied. Eating the dinner he had missed and meditating afterwards did nothing to dissipate the feeling. So, when it came time to sleep, he pushed it to the back of his mind and did his best to forget about it. He was a Vulcan. Emotional reactions were to be suppressed.

~*~*~*~

It was supposed to be a routine away mission. Kirk had decided to take a few of the green ensigns with him, give them some experience on away missions. McCoy had gone with them and Spock had been left in charge of the bridge. It was actually a little boring. Sulu and Checkov were excellent at their jobs and kept the Enterprise where she should be with little input from Spock himself. He’d been passing the time working on a math problem in his head. It was supposed to be unsolvable but he had an idea for it. He thought he was getting close.

Just as he was putting his idea into action, manipulating the math problem in his head to test his theory, a series of beeps alerted him to an incoming transmission from the planet. He nodded at Uhura to answer and McCoy’s panicked voice filled the bridge. The sound of phasers firing wove through his words and a scream momentarily interrupted him.

Calmly, Spock managed to get the story from McCoy. The peaceful, routine away mission had gone south. Two of the tribes on the planet had started warring and the Enterprise’s officers had been caught in the middle. They’d taken shelter with one tribe, huddling together with about fifty individuals in a small bunker. But they weren’t safe. They’d only delayed things.

The other tribe had surrounded the bunker, three hundred strong. They rode large, rangy horses and carried obsidian-tipped spears as well as more conventional phasers. One of the ensigns had died on the retreat to the bunker, two more were badly injured, and Kirk was injured as well. 

“So if you could beam us out of here, that would be great,” McCoy wound up his explanation. More phaser fire and another scream punctuated his words. “Sooner is better than later.”

“Remain calm, doctor,” Spock replied while nodding at Uhura. While she spoke quickly to the crew member in the transporter room, Spock tried to reassure McCoy. “We should have you out of there soon. Sick bay will be standing by.”

“Mister Spock,” Uhura said. Her voice told him that what she was about to say was not good news. “We… we can’t get a lock on them. Some mineral in the bunker is scattering their signals. I’m sorry, we can’t beam them out.”

Another scream rang out while Spock considered those words. The bridge crew shared worried looks then turned expectant faces to him. He was in charge; the decision was his. Spock took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He knew his duty. There was only one choice he could make.

He gave several orders, crew members snapping to attention and turning back to their duty stations to carry them out. For his last order, Spock turned the bridge over to Sulu and strode to the turbolift. He stopped by the armory on the way to the transporter room and armed himself. Then he joined the small strike force that had assembled on the transporter pad. He gave the order to beam down. If they couldn’t beam the away team up, they’d just go get them in person.

Moving as quickly and quietly as they could, the strike team headed towards the bunker. By this time, the horsemen had gathered near the front entrance of the bunker. It was the only entrance they knew about. It was also visible, heavy metal doors barring them from entering. What the horsemen didn’t know was there was a second entrance, more of an exit, in the back. An underground tunnel led away from the bunker for about two hundred feet. Then, the tunnel exited through a small hole that was covered with a realistic fake boulder. It was meant as a last resort, a way for besieged defenders to escape should they lose the bunker. It was this path that Spock and the strike team would use to get inside and evacuate their people.

It took a little searching but they found the correct boulder. Spock pushed it aside, almost surprise at how easy it was to move. He was the first into the tunnel and moved down far enough so that everyone could crowd inside. He delegated one person to guard the exit and led the others to the bunker.

Once there, they looked through each room until they found their crew. The two wounded ensigns were lying on rough pallets, unconscious. Colorful cloth wrapped their wounds, one on the belly and one on the thigh. Kirk sat against the wall next to them, a cloth wrapped around his head and around his chest. All of the cloths were stained with blood. McCoy stood up from treating one of the tribesmen, a rare smile tugging at his lips on sighting the strike team.

“Well, I’ll be goddamned!” he exclaimed. “You came to us!”

“Yes and we have a way out,” Spock explained. He met Kirk’s eyes. Kirk was smiling too and his eyes were shining. A wave of… something flowed through Spock’s belly at the sight. It was warm and fluttery and just strange. And all-too-familiar rage roiled in his belly alongside the warmth at seeing Kirk’s wounds.

“Not without the tribesmen,” Kirk said, struggling to his feet. “We can’t leave them to that group outside. Not after the help they gave us.”

“Very well,” Spock said. He gave a few quick orders to the rest of the strike team. They left to gather up the tribesmen. “We have little time. Let’s hurry.”

The pallets the ensigns lay on turned out to be stretchers as well. Unwounded tribesmen carried them and the others who’d been badly wounded. Spock stuck to Kirk’s side, steadying him when he wavered and directing him when the concussion he must have been suffering from blurred his vision. Every touch made the warmth burn brighter within his belly. It made him… want, though he wasn’t sure what.

The guard at the entrance reported that the way was still clear. When Kirk refused to leave until everyone else had gotten out, Spock stayed at his side. Spock helped those who needed it out through the mouth of the tunnel. McCoy had gone ahead with the worst of the wounded. When they got away from the mineral’s interference, the Enterprise would start beaming everyone aboard.

It didn’t take as long as it felt to empty the bunker. But by the time the last of the strike team left, leaving Spock and Kirk as the last ones in the tunnel, Spock felt like he was going to jump out of his skin. Breathing exercises had allowed him to retain control of himself and his emotional reactions were staying contained. But they weren’t going away. Indeed, they simmered in his belly as he stood next to Kirk.

“That’s the last of them,” Kirk said, his voice tired but satisfied. “Time to go.”

After they exited, Spock moved the boulder back into place. Let the horsemen wonder where their prey had gone. They wouldn’t find this escape tunnel from here. They walked away, keeping an eye out for scouts. After several steps, Kirk started swaying even more. When he almost fell, Spock took his arm and draped it over his shoulder. He expected the contact to make that strange warmth flare hotter but instead, it merely settled in his belly as if it had found a perfect home. It made no sense. What was going on?

When they reached the transport site, most of the group had gone. Again, Kirk insisted on waiting until everyone else had gotten to safety before transporting with the last group. Aboard the ship, Spock insisted the captain go to sick bay. He walked him there himself, arm still over his shoulder. The crew knew their duty as well as he knew his. They would create order out of the chaos of the escape while Kirk was seen to.

In sick bay, McCoy was moving from patient to patient at a brisk clip. No one, other than the poor ensign on the surface, had died. The patients with the worst wounds had already been seen to and Spock could see they were expected to recover. Even the nurses had moved on to other patients, leaving the first treated to rest.

He helped Kirk onto one of the beds, resisting the urge to pat his hand as Kirk let it drop onto the bed. The wound on his chest had broken open again in the escape and fresh blood stained the cloth. A nurse came over and nudged Spock out of the way. He took that as a dismissal, nodded to Kirk and McCoy as he passed, and headed back to the bridge. 

The next few hours were full of boredom again. McCoy didn’t want to let the injured tribesmen leave until all of them had regained consciousness. Their fellows refused to leave until everyone was able to. So they waited, everyone who had been on the surface taking time to rest and eat. While he sat the captain’s chair, Spock considered his emotional reactions. Maybe it was time to find out more about what he was feeling. He’d made little headway by himself. Yes, he would talk to someone. When the current crisis was over.

Another hour later, the last of the tribesmen had regained consciousness. The whole group beamed off the ship to a safe location, a considerable distance from the horsemen still surrounding the bunker. That signaled the end of Spock’s duty shift and he gratefully relinquished the bridge. Then, he made his way back to sick bay after checking to see if Kirk was still there. He wasn’t. The captain had insisted on recuperating the rest of the way in his own quarters. Nodding to Nurse Chapel, Spock continued on into McCoy’s office. There, he found the doctor filling out reports.

“Excuse me, Doctor McCoy,” Spock said. “Do you have a few minutes? There’s something I’d like to discuss with you.”

“Sure, sure, Spock, come on in,” McCoy waved him in. Spock closed the door and took a seat in front of McCoy’s desk. “What can I do for you?”

“Recently, a crew member came to me,” Spock began hesitantly. He’d decided to tell most of the truth. Not all of it. “He expressed a desire to learn Vulcan methods of suppressing emotion. He said he’d been having emotions recently that made no sense to him. I wanted to speak with you before agreeing to teaching him any methods.”

“Okay, but why?” McCoy asked, forehead wrinkling in confusion. “Sounds like it’s right up your alley, Spock.”

“Well, you are a doctor and, as such, understand the human condition,” Spock said. “I wanted your opinion in case there were variables I did not see.”

“Well, I may not understand all of the human condition but I can certainly treat what ails you,” McCoy grinned. He sat back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “All right, lay it on me.”

So Spock explained everything he’d been feeling since he’d first noticed the emotional reactions. He made sure to couch everything as if it was really this nonexistent crew member feeling everything. Also, mention of Kirk never came up. Spock always referred to the subject of the emotional reactions as the individual.

From the nerves and worry to the anger at someone who had harmed the individual to the warmth that had settled deep in the belly, Spock left nothing out. It felt strangely satisfying to lay it all out like this, in chronological order. It didn’t help explain what he was feeling but it did make it quantifiable, easy to examine. When he was done, Spock fell silent and waited for McCoy to speak.

“You know, Spock, if I didn’t know better, I’d say your crew member was in love,” McCoy mused. “But most people know what that feels like. I would think a human would recognize what he was feeling.”

“In love? Perhaps,” Spock shrugged. “But aren’t some humans confused by their own emotions? From what I’ve observed, humans often fail to understand exactly how they feel.”

“True,” McCoy admitted. He shrugged. “Well, to go by your descriptions, I’d still say your crew member was in love. Maybe he’s never been in love before and doesn’t recognize the feeling. But whoever this individual is, is the person he’s in love with. I’d recommend telling your crew member that he might be in love and that he might want to talk to the person. If he chooses not to, feel free to teach him any Vulcan methods you want.”

“Yes, I think that might be best,” Spock stood. McCoy had given him much to think about and he wanted to leave before he lost control of his calm expression. “Thank you, Doctor McCoy.”

“Happy to help,” McCoy waved and turned back to his reports. When Spock left, the doors sliding shut behind him, McCoy shook his head. Then he turned to his communicator. “Hey, Jim, you awake? Yeah, you won’t believe the conversation I just had.”

~*~*~*~

For a long time, Spock did not act on the knowledge he now had. Instead, he decided to test it. He needed more information, more proof of this love that McCoy thought he felt. So while he observed Kirk and his emotional reactions to him, Spock researched love. He read poets and philosophers, poetry and plays and essays. He tried to understand love in all its forms once he learned there were multiple expressions of it. He tried to match what he was feeling to the writings. Finally, he determined that yes, he was in love and that it was what was referred to as eros. Romantic love.

And Kirk did not fail to provide plenty of evidence. He still came back from many away missions disheveled or wounded. Betting still abounded, crew members joking and laughing about their wayward captain. Yet Spock never saw any derision in the jokes. Instead, it seemed as if the crew loved their captain, loved the shenanigans he found himself in. It was a strange attitude but Spock found himself in sympathy with it. He loved Kirk too. He would have walked through hell had the captain asked it of him. And he would have expected to make it to the other side if the captain believed he would.

Now that he was sure of what he was feeling, Spock had no idea how to proceed. Enough shipboard romances had turned bitter to make him wary of even attempting a relationship. And those were romances between junior crew members. What of a romance turned bitter between captain and first officer? That could fracture the crew, destroy the trust in each other they’d built. He would not risk that. Even taking a bad ending into account, Spock wasn’t sure he wanted to attempt a relationship. It went against Vulcan teachings to accede to an emotional reaction. Wouldn’t that be what he was doing? Letting his emotions decide his path?

Some time later, Spock still hadn’t made up his mind. The Enterprise was orbiting an uninhabited planet and Kirk wanted to explore it. Wanting to take his mind off his thoughts, Spock volunteered for the away mission. And if a thrill traveled down his spine when Kirk grinned at him, no one had to know but him.

It was a small team that assembled in the transporter room. Kirk, Spock, McCoy, and Sulu. Kirk didn’t want to spend too much time on the surface as there was quite a bit of tectonic activity. But a small group, for a short time, should be safe. They beamed down to the surface without incident, landing in a forest clearing. Mountains reared above the trees, white with snow. Clouds scudded across a pale blue sky and two moons glimmered. It was peaceful and beautiful but the ground trembled intermittently.

The group split up, McCoy and Sulu heading one way and talking companionably while Kirk and Spock took another way. Inwardly, Spock was pleased that he and Kirk had ended up together. Even if he hadn’t decided what he wanted to do yet, he still found Kirk’s company pleasant. They exchanged few words, mostly pointing out interesting flora or, once, a small bird that hopped away into the underbrush. Their path took them to the edge of a mountain and they found the forest they were in was about hallway up the mountain. A dazzling vista spread before them, gilded with sunlight.

“Gorgeous,” Kirk breathed, stepping to the edge and looking down. “Imagine that view out your bedroom window.”

“Fascinating,” Spock nodded, moving to Kirk’s side. 

Something prickled the back of his neck and he had a bare moment’s warning before a larger earthquake crumbled the ledge and the two of them pitched over the side. Spock reached for Kirk’s arm, managing to grab it and desperately scrabbling at the crumbling ledge. For a moment, he thought they were safe. His fingers dug into solid ground, arresting their fall. But before he could do more than catch a breath, another quake shook his fingers loose. They fell, a scream of terror bursting from both of their throats.

After a few seconds, they landed hard on the rocky slope of the mountain. A distinctive snap broke the quiet as Kirk landed on his side followed by two more as Spock rolled into a sharp rock. Both men groaned but made no move to get up. They didn’t want to be knocked off their feet by another quake. When the ground stayed still for several moments, Spock levered himself to his feet. A searing ache in his side and a quick examination told him he’d cracked a few ribs, at least. It hurt to breathe but he could move. Kirk, however, was another matter.

“Well, that was not fun,” Kirk panted, groaning loudly as he tried to sit up. “You okay, Spock?”

“I survived,” Spock replied shortly. “You, Captain?”

“My leg,” Kirk said, groaning again. “It’s broken.”

Spock made it to Kirk’s side, slowly kneeling down to look at Kirk’s leg. It was indeed broken at the thigh. A white spear of bone jutted just above Kirk’s knee. It was a nasty break and it meant he wouldn’t be able to walk without help. Time to go. Spock reached for his communicator, flipped it open, and sighed when he saw that it had been smashed in the fall. He raised one eyebrow at Kirk, who checked for his own communicator. It was missing.

“I’ll look,” Spock said, still sparing his words. Breathing hurt enough. Talking was worse. Still, he got to his feet again and made a slow survey of the area. He found Kirk’s communicator not too far away. Also smashed. 

“I think we’re on our own for a while,” Kirk said. “At least until McCoy and Sulu find us.”

They settled down as well as they could with their injuries after Spock bound Kirk’s leg. Surely it wouldn’t take long for McCoy and Sulu to come looking for them. It was standard operating procedure for members of an away mission to check in every half hour with each other. That way, if one group got in trouble, the other would know in time to help them. Hopefully. The half hour mark came and went. Now, McCoy and Sulu would know they were in trouble. The question was, would they be able to find them where they’d fallen?

Night started to fall and the temperature dropped. Before long, Kirk was shivering in the cold and Spock was very uncomfortable. While he’d gotten used to the temperatures humans considered comfortable, the warmth of Vulcan was in his bones. When it became clear that they wouldn’t be found before they froze, Spock started looking for a place to shelter. He found it not too far away, a small cave that looked like it had been home to an animal a long time ago. It would do.

Getting Kirk to the cave was an exercise in pain and patience. The best he could do was hobble along on his unbroken leg, hanging onto Spock to help keep his weight off the broken one. It was slow and tedious and Kirk had to stop every few steps to breathe. But the exertion warmed both of them so they weren’t as cold. One benefit, at least. When they reached the cave, Spock settled Kirk against the back wall and left to find firewood.

When he came back, Kirk was drowsing. His leg stuck out at an awkward angle and the cloth around the break was stained red. But he wasn’t currently bleeding, so Spock started building the fire. He used his phaser to start it and sat down next to Kirk to soak in the warmth.

“Ah good,” Kirk murmured when he opened his eyes. “So cold earlier.”

“Plenty of firewood around,” Spock told him. He firmly ignored the worry that was lodged in his chest. They would be fine. They would. “We’ll stay warm all night.”

“Good,” Kirk repeated and fell asleep again.

Spock spent the next few hours feeding the fire, staring at Kirk’s face and measuring the rise and fall of his chest, and trying to salvage anything he could from the two smashed communicators. If he could get one working, they could get back to the ship faster. Who knew how long it might take McCoy and Sulu to find them?

Every once in a while, Kirk would shift in his sleep and grunt as his leg moved. It caught Spock’s attention every time and he’d wait until Kirk settled down again to go back to the communicators. His shoulders were tense and his side ached like holy hell. By now, he was convinced he’d only cracked his ribs. There were no sharp stabbing pains so he was pretty sure he was going to live. But the longer he watched Kirk, the more worried he became. A sheen of sweat covered his forehead and he was breathing heavily.

Then, between one heartbeat and the next, Kirk stopped breathing. Spock froze for a moment, worry spiking into terror. Then he was at Kirk’s side without any memory of moving through the space between them. He pressed a hand to Kirk’s chest, looking for a heartbeat. As he did, Kirk shuddered out a deep breath and groaned. He was pale under the sweat and when Spock wrapped his fingers around his wrist to check his pulse, his skin was clammy. The cloth around the break was completely red and there was a red puddle under his leg.

“Hold on, Jim,” Spock whispered, his fingers tightening around Kirk’s wrist. “Don’t die. We’ll make it out of here and Doctor McCoy will fix the break in your leg.”

“S… Spock?” Kirk murmured, opening his eyes and staring dazedly. “So cold. Where… where are we?”

“In the cave I found,” Spock explained. “You’re losing blood so I need to rebind your leg. This will hurt.”

With economical movements, Spock stripped the soaked cloth off Kirk’s leg and used a strip torn from his uniform to wrap it again. That seemed to staunch some of the bleeding. At the very least, Kirk grew no paler. He built up the fire a little more and settled down next to Kirk again. This time, he kept one ear on Kirk’s breathing while he worked on the communicators.

When the fire started dying down, and Spock had fed the last of his gathered wood into it, he’d determined that the communicators were smashed beyond recovery. Kirk was still breathing and he’d had no more stutters like earlier. Spock felt safe enough to go gather more wood. It was freezing outside the cave and they needed to keep the fire going. He searched as quickly as he could, carrying as much wood as his cracked ribs would let him. When he made it back to the cave, he saw Kirk was awake and staring into the fire.

“Did you call me Jim earlier?” he asked as Spock fed a few more pieces of wood into the fire. “I think I remember that.”

“I did,” Spock admitted. He sat down next to Kirk again, the pile of wood at his side. “You stopped breathing for a moment.”

“I see. Well, I’m glad I started again,” Kirk joked feebly. “It’s kind of important.”

“I am too,” Spock said softly. “I would not wish to lose my captain.”

Silence feel between them after that remark. Spock watched the flames dancing and tried to ignore the almost visceral sense of the man beside him. The warmth in his belly he’d come to understand as love seemed to almost purr in contentment. They were alive and they were together. That seemed enough for that warmth. Part of him agreed but part of him was still paralyzed by indecision. Should he act on what he was feeling? How would he even broach the subject? But all questions were dashed from his mind when Kirk tried to move his broken leg, groaned, then pitched over sideways.

Again, without conscious memory of moving, Spock was at Kirk’s side. He eased the man down into a more comfortable position and examined him. The break didn’t seem to be bleeding again. Sweat still sheened Kirk’s skin but it was no longer as clammy. His hands shaking with the rising terror in his belly, Spock cupped Kirk’s face in his hands. He could feel Kirk’s breath and some of the terror eased.

“You can’t die, Jim,” Spock whispered. “I can’t lose you. Not yet. Wake up.”

Spock willed him to wake with every fiber of his being. Why he’d fallen unconscious, Spock could determine later. Right now, he needed Kirk to wake up. He needed him conscious and aware because unconsciousness could so easily become something worse. After several agonizing seconds, Kirk’s eyes flickered open. And then something happened that Spock never intended. Their minds melded together.

In a timeless moment, everything passed between them. Spock felt himself laid bare before Kirk’s mind as Kirk was laid bare before his. All of his emotions, his attempts to repress them, and finally his acceptance of them flowed towards Kirk. And in return, Spock felt wonder, delight, acceptance. Home.

“So it was you and not some random crew member,” Kirk whispered. Spock blinked at the non sequitur. “That Bones said he didn’t know what he was feeling. It was you. You’re in love.”

“Yes,” Spock said.

“With me,” Kirk continued.

“Yes,” Spock repeated.

“Oh,” Kirk said.

“Yes,” Spock said again. Then he gently disengaged the mind meld. “Are you all right? Do you know what happened?”

“I passed out from the pain of moving my leg,” Kirk said. Then he waved a hand. “But that’s not important. You’re in love with me.”

“I can only say yes so many times before it becomes ridiculous,” Spock said. He turned away and grabbed a piece of wood from the pile. He fed it to the fire and carefully didn’t look at Kirk. One couldn’t lie in a mind meld but one could change how they felt about something. And he didn’t want to see Kirk change his mind.

“No, I understand that,” Kirk said, laughing. There was a note of wonder in his voice that was almost painfully familiar to Spock. He’d just felt that wonder, intimately. “I just wanted to make sure I had that right. You’re in love with me.”

“Yes,” Spock repeated, though a small smile tugged at his lips. 

“Oh good,” Kirk said. “Because I’m in love with you, too.”

Spock turned to stare, his mouth dropping open in surprise. He hadn’t expected that. Hadn’t felt what he thought was love in the mind meld. But Kirk was smiling back him, his eyes lit in that familiar glow of delight. No words came to mind but none were needed. In the next moment, Kirk had wrapped a hand around the back of his neck, pulled him gently closer, leaned in towards him, and paused for a moment to search his face. Whatever he saw there must have satisfied him because Kirk closed the distance between them and pressed their lips together. Their eyes closed at the same time as both men savored the kiss.

It was soft and sweet and tender, all feelings Spock was unfamiliar with. Yet, he found himself wanting to learn and experience them. With Kirk. They broke apart but neither moved far away. They breathed each other’s air for several moments, foreheads resting together.

“Well, now we definitely need to get back to the Enterprise,” Kirk laughed, breaking the silence. “Can’t die after that.”

“No you can’t, Jim,” Spock replied. The warmth in his belly spread through his whole body, almost warmer than the fire. “We have a lot to discuss.”

“I think I like you calling me Jim,” Kirk said. 

“I do, too,” Spock smiled. Wanting the feel of his lips, Spock kissed Kirk again. “You should rest. It’s going to be a long night.”

They settled themselves carefully next to each other, close to the fire to keep warm. They traded gentle kisses until they fell asleep, Kirk’s head pillowed on Spock’s shoulder and Spock’s arm around his shoulders. In the morning, McCoy and Sulu found them before they woke. Neither made mention of it but traded knowing glances before waking their captain and first officer. Well, at least life on the Enterprise wouldn’t be boring, knowing their captain and first officer were together.


End file.
